Ricochet
by Decadebaby
Summary: A short piece which takes place after Bess testifies at the hearing, but before she learns that the charges have been dropped. Reviews are greatly welcomed.
1. Chapter 1

Elizabeth McCord sat on the window seat of her bedroom with her legs tucked up under herself, watching the darkness. She was waiting for the sun to rise, praying that with it, a confidence would also rise within her.

The fear and doubt hadn't hit her right away. Walking into the courtroom, she had felt utterly sure; utterly right. She hadn't felt an ounce of fear - not even as Henry's face changed as he understood why she was there and what she was doing. She recognized his look of fear and anger, understanding that every molecule in his body was bound and determined to protect her. His need to prevent her from harm had become a wall between them as he tried to push her to accept that the most moral man she had ever known was going to publicly lie; that he was going to commit perjury to protect her.

She hadn't really slept at all that night - especially after Russell's visit. She'd paced and occasionally argued with Henry. After awhile though, they'd quit arguing. One thing they had learned to do in twenty-five years was fight. They both recognized that continued conversations would lead to frustration. Henry wasn't going to change his mind and neither was she. He would lie to save her whether she wanted him to or not. And he was furiously angry. She'd never seen such an entrenched rage. He believed in a world of reason and logic, and the vindictive attack on her was impossible for him to process.

"No." He'd said. "No! They want you to take the fall! No way! You've got a way out, and the only way they can't get to you now is through me! No!"

"Henry! How are you going to live with it? You are an honest person! You always have been! This will crush you!"

"I'm not a child!" He spat angrily. "You believe I've never told a lie? C'mon! And this is righteous - it's just. You are _not_ going to jail!"

"So, you are? That makes no sense!"

"I'm not going to jail! The only one who knows about that conversation is you and I."

"And Isabel." Tears of frustration filled her blue eyes. "And she was bugged. Henry! Juliet probably knows! Where do you think this came from?"

"I don't care where it came from!" His voice rose in anger. "You aren't testifying! Elizabeth! No! I'm taking care of this!"

"Don't yell at me!" She spat back. "I know you want to protect me but . . ."

"Stop it! Just stop!" He threw up his hands and stormed from the room. He brushed past Alison who stood wide-eyed in the hallway and disappeared downstairs.

"Mom?" She asked. "What's going on?"

"Noth . . .nothing. Honey, go back to bed."

"What is going on?" Jason stood in his doorway rubbing his eyes.

"Go back to bed." She said frustration flooding her system.

"Mom and Dad are fighting!" Ali said her eyes wide with fear. "He just stormed out!"

"Mom! What is going on?" Jason turned toward her.

"No. We are just working something out! Just, look, it's okay. Dad's just . . . Please just go back to bed. Everything is going to be fine!"

"Stop lying to us!" Jason exploded. "You keep saying that! It isn't true! Nothing is fine! Nothing! Your stupid job! You nearly got killed and nearly and you came back all . . . And Aunt Juliet's . . . Everything is screwed up!"

"Jason, don't!" Ali turned to her brother. "It isn't Mom's fault!"

"Yes, it is!" Jason turned on his sister. "You know it is! You even said yesterday that everything is a mess because of her stupid job and. . ."

"Get to bed." Henry's voice was icy cold, and they all turned to look. He was halfway up the kitchen stairs. "Now!"

"Dad, I just . . ." Jason sputtered.

"We'll talk in the morning! Get to bed!" Jason said nothing, ducking his head and turning slowly to go back into his room. "Alison, you too."

"Yes, sir." The broken sound of her voice shattered Elizabeth but she was unable to speak, was actually finding it difficult to breath. She watched numbly as Alison's door closed, and then found herself clutching the wall as she gasped for breath.

Henry sprang into immediate action. He guided her back into the bedroom pushing her down to sit on the bench at the end of their bed.

"Put your head down." His hand gently pushed her head down and she found herself blinking at the floor.

"I think . . . It's . . .my . . . I . . ."

"No. You're okay. Elizabeth, just breathe."

Her body was completely seized by panic, as he briefly disappeared from her field of vision.

"Henry!" She gasped out. "I'm sorry . . I . . . Don't . . ."

"Stop talking!" His voice was angry again. He handed her a paper bag. "Breathe, babe. Just breathe.

"No, . . . This might . . . It feels . . . Like . . ."

"It's not a heart attack. You are okay. Just . . .please, honey, just focus on breathing."

She fought hard against the panic. At first she was fairly certain that she was going to die right there with her children upset and her last moments fighting with Henry, but slowly she felt her lungs filling again with air.

The whole time, Henry sat beside her, one hand on her arm. It took her a few minutes for her to focus on anything other than her wildly beating heart, but realized that he'd been keeping a steady stream of encouragement as she struggled.

"That's better. You've got it. Nice and easy. Just breathe. It's okay. You're okay."

"I thought . . ." She gasped out, moving the bag away from her mouth. "You were mad . . . At me."

He pushed the bag back toward her mouth. "Sweetheart, I swear! If you don't stop talking I will be mad! Baby, just breathe."

Tears filled her eyes and she couldn't brush them aside. She watched as they fell to the floor. She kept her head low and closing her eyes focused in on the rhythm of her heart, trying to remember everything she'd been taught. Finally, she was able to set the bag aside.

"Better?" Henry asked quietly.

"Yes." She felt completely exhausted and hopeless. She couldn't remember a time feeling worse - it was if she had just returned from Iran and darkness was consuming her all over again. She felt Henry let go of her arm and silently move away. She would've wept but found she had nothing left. She knew she needed to go talk to Jason and Alison but couldn't even find the strength to lift her head. She kept her eyes on the floor, remembering how much they'd loved all the floors when they'd first toured the house. Staring at it now, she wished they'd never left the farm, that she'd never dragged her family to the city.

The sudden gasping sound is what finally pulled her attention away from her own misery. She was shocked to discover that Henry hadn't left the room. He was sitting on the edge of the chaise, head down.

He was weeping.

She blinked momentarily frozen with shock. She crossed to him and knelt in front of him, her hands on his strong arms.

"Henry?" Her voice was still raspy from the panic attack. Her throat tight with tears. "Babe?"

Henry was not a man closed off to his feelings. He was, however, a Marine, and tears were rare. He'd cried at the birth of each child, and when his mother died. She'd fallen asleep to the sound of his crying the night she'd returned from Iran, while her own eyes remained dry - too wounded to cry with him. He'd cried again with her when she'd finally broken down and told him everything. Even as she peered up into his face, she wondered if Iran would be what destroyed them.

"I'm sorry." He managed at last. "I'm sorry for . . . I don't want to fight with you."

"It's alright, Henry. I'm okay."

"No." He choked out. "I yelled at the kids and gave you a panic attack and I'm so sorry."

"Hey, I'm okay." She reached out with gentle fingers to caress his face. "Henry, stop. It's okay. I argued, too."

She sat down on the ground, looking up into his face. It was impossible for her to remember back to a life before him. It seemed that she'd been looking up into his eyes her whole life. "Henry? C'mon. You can make things right with the kids later, and I am okay."

"Please, just let me say we never talked about it."

"But, it's perjury. Henry, what if they send you to jail?"

"If one of us is going. It's going to be me." The angry edge returned to his voice. He took her hands in his. "Please, Elizabeth, please! You have to let me do this. You've suffered so much already and I couldn't bear more. I can't bear to see you hurt more. Let me do this."

"If you go to prison, you don't think I'll be hurt?"

"I'm not going to prison."

"You don't think knowing that I caused you to violate your core beliefs, won't hurt me? Henry, you are so good! I couldn't bear it if you were corrupted because of me."

He squeezed her fingers tightly, and lifting her hands, kissed them. "Baby, please. I couldn't protect you in Iran. I couldn't even really help you when you got home, but I can do this."

It was his desperation that finally pushed her to agree. She could see how shattered he was - how desperately he needed to _do something_. They'd finally come to an understanding near dawn and exhausted had lain together wrapped in each other's arms. She hadn't wanted to move when her alarm went off. She slammed it into silence and crawled straight back into his embrace.

"Let me at least go . . ."

"No." He'd cut her off firmly. "There's no way you could stay silent if you were there. No. I'll call you when it's over."

"Okay." She'd responded weakly. "Henry, I'm so sorry about all of this. I never ever would bring this pain to you."

"Stop." He'd said, his voice husky. "This isn't your fault and it isn't going to destroy us. This is just another storm. We'll survive it." He kissed her. "No more crying, babe. I can't . . . I can't manage it just now.

"Okay." She agreed, swallowing an ocean of tears.

They'd talked to the kids - Apologizing for the fight. Henry's sweet humility was almost too much to bear.

"Things are just a little bit tense right now." He explained. "And I get really frustrated when I can't make sure all of us are safe; when I can't protect your mother."

"But you said that everything was settled. That you wouldn't have to testify." Alison said. "Why do they want to talk to Dad?"

"Because they can't get at your mother." He said sighing heavily.

"Well, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" Jason burst out. "Clearly they don't know a thing about you guys! Dad would never say anything that would get Mom in trouble. Never!"

It had been a long morning of talking. Jason had tearfully apologized, and Alison's worry was so powerful that it could be felt by everyone. She'd felt like such a liar sending her out the door and telling her that everything was going to be fine. Henry had no classes, and so she gathered up her things and stood in front of his desk, trembling.

"I better go." She said, trying to keep her voice even. "I'm already late."

"Okay." He said without looking up. "See you tonight."

She understood it; knew what he was trying to do, but moving to walk away from him, reminded her too much of dashing out and leaving for Iran. She'd been terrified and knew if she stayed one second longer she would never be able to go at all. And so she'd kissed him and ran out the door leaving so much unsaid. She couldn't bear to do that again.

"Call me later." She said softly.

"Of course." He still refused to look up at her.

"Henry," Her voice was soft. "Henry."

"No. I, uh, I can't, babe. It's okay. Go to work."

"I love you." She said. "All my life and everyday. And you were wrong last night. You did help me when I came home. You were infinitely patient, and I don't think I would've survived it without you. And I know that no matter what happens today, we'll be alright. We can manage anything." She moved closer, wanting so badly to wrap her arms around him but instead reached for his hand, squeezing tightly. "I love you." She repeated and kissing the top of his head had walked out the door.

By the time she'd gone to work, she was completely exhausted. It was only ten am but it felt like midnight. It must have been written all over her face because the first thing Blake did was hand her a cup of coffee.

"You've got no meetings this morning." He said crisply.

"I thought I was meeting with Ambassador . . ."

"No, ma'am that got pushed back until next week."

"By whom?" She asked, knowing the answer. Blake leaned toward overly-protective from time to time.

"That's . . . Uh . . . Not really relevant to . . . Uh. . ." He grew pale. "Ma'am, please don't be angry but I thought with Dr. McCord testifying . . ."

"It's fine, Blake." She waved a hand at him. "You are probably right. I'm a little tense today." She sighed. "Are there any donuts?" She asked uncharacteristically, choosing the comfort of sugar.

***MS***

She had thought she could go through with it; that she could let him lie. But as it grew closer and closer to two, she felt her resolve weakening. She couldn't imagine a world in which Henry McCord was a liar. It was impossible to accept. And they'd done nothing wrong. She remembered Henry telling Mike B that. In all their arguing they'd ignored this simple fact - everything that was done was done to save the Nation - to save the world! She realized suddenly that they'd become completely sidetracked and forgotten the truth - they hadn't done anything wrong.

Walking into the hearing had been the toughest part. She knew Henry would be furious and that it would fill him with fear. She hated to surprise him but also knew it was the only way. His face had gone white upon seeing her. His features sharpening into tight angry lines. Even after she gave his own advice back to him - reminding him of who they were, his face remained tense - his fear for her visible.

Standing on the steps outside in the freezing cold afterwards, she'd felt joyful. She was so confident in her choice that even when Mike B told them her testimony was being turned over to the justice department, she felt no fear. Henry was less sure. He'd ridden back to the office with her, holding tightly to her hand.

"The kids probably saw it on the news." He said sighing. "Stevie texted me." He held his phone up to her.

"Are you angry?" She asked suddenly perplexed.

"No, babe! No, I know it was the right choice. I'm just worried about what the kids are hearing. Honestly, I'd rather stay with you but I think I'd better go home."

"I'm sure Russell is standing outside my door waiting to fire me." She sagged. "Well, I did better than eleven days."

"Seriously?" He turned toward her wide-eyed.

"What?"

"You were probably too focused on me. You didn't read that room, babe. Everyone was on Team McCord when you walked out. Everyone."

"Not quite everyone." She reminded him.

"He's just pissed off that since you came to Washington, Conrad's numbers have been on a steady rise. There's no way you are getting fired. No way." He considered her thoughtfully. "You want me to come with you?"

"No. You are right. Noodle's gonna be a mess over this, and both she and Jason have been . . . You better go home. She sighed. "I won't be long. I just have to listen to my staff freak out and get lectured and yelled at by a couple of people. You know," She grinned at him. "Just another normal day."

He smiled warmly at her. "Espionage and perjury - McCord Normal." He leaned closer. "Everything is going to be fine, sweetheart. I promise it."

"You've got that kind of power?"

"No. But good is going to win." He smiled at her, his hands holding her face.

"A DC first." She said leaning forward to kiss him.

***MS***

The office was in an uproar. Her staff furious that they hadn't known anything. And although, Daisy was nearly jumping with pleasure at both the images of her boss in the hearing and the images of the McCords on the steps outside, she was still anxious about spin.

Jay and Nadine both seemed genuinely concerned. They were arguing over points of law and protocol. It was like walking into a storm and reminded her of all the times that the kids had dissolved into chaos and Henry would have to whistle to get them to stop and listen. She wished she could whistle and was opening her mouth to tell them to stop when a shrill whistle cut through the chatter.

"Enough." She was surprised to hear Mike B's voice. "Listen chuckleheads, she doesn't have time for amateur hour. Everybody better get their crap together right now. We aren't debating if this is the stupidest thing she's ever done, since keeping another guy's staff. It happened people. Now, we need to be ready for whatever is next. So shut the hell up and get to work!"

They stood stunned for a minute and then dispersed, leaving her alone with Mike B and Blake who hovered at her elbow.

"Thanks, I think." She said to him before continuing into her office. "Although, it wasn't stupid." She said sliding out of her coat.

"Naive, then." He sighed. "Your biggest problem is that your closest advisor is a priest."

"Henry's not a priest." She shook her head and sat at her desk. "And he was against me speaking. If he gets a minute to think about it, he's going to be angry at me."

"He ought to be figuring out how to take care of your kids alone." He sank into the couch. "You've got a way of pissing off bad people, Bess."

"I do." She agreed. "I don't mean to and it was the right thing to do. Henry was never gonna take the Fifth, you know that."

"It's ridiculous! He thinks he's an actual Knight sworn to protect you! I can't work with the two of you! Your ethics are all messed up."

"You mean, we _have_ ethics." She pointed out.

"Yes! It's really inconvenient and not all that helpful in Washington."

Just then Blake, who'd been hovering outside her door, stepped in front of it, blocking the doorway. Shocked she turned to Mike who raised an eyebrow in surprise. They rose and found themselves watching the improbable scene of Blake arguing with Russell Jackson.

"No! She is not available." He said.

"I can see her. She's standing right behind you!" Russell told him.

"Be that as it may, her day has been full enough. It's not like you are going in there to reassure her, sir. It's my job to protect her; to protect the office."

"It's fine, Blake." She told him, a hand on his arm. "Thank you, but it's fine."

"Ma'am, I don't think that . . ." He turned to face her.

"It's fine, Blake. Would you mind getting Mike and I some good coffee? I think I need something better than comes from the Mess."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll be right back." He directed this last bit at Russell who raised an eyebrow. They watched in silence as the young assistant made his way to his desk.

"Blake!" Russell Jackson called out. "For the record, it's _my_ job to fire people like you. You are fortunate I found your outburst entertaining."

Blake paled visibly and with a nod at his boss, he left.

"He's like a rabid chihuahua." Russell said and Mike B. laughed. Elizabeth glared at him.

"What? He's right?"

Elizabeth considered him a minute and said evenly, "Come into my office, Russell, you can yell at me while I pack up my things."

"I can't fire you _today_." Russell told her. They moved into her office and she sat behind her desk, as Russell sank into a chair across from her. "You are so naive!"

"She really is." Mike b. agreed. "I don't understand it. She was CIA."

"President Dalton says she was an anomaly there too. He was actually surprised she lasted as long as she did - kept expecting her to quit in protest."

"Huh." Mike considered thoughtfully. "She's such an interesting choice then. He knew what he was getting into when he picked her."

"He wanted her from day one. He's got this connection to her - to that way of thinking. He's loyal." Russell shrugged. "I think it's a shared foxhole kind of thing too. He trusted her back then so . . ."

"He trusts her now." Mike finished. "I bet he regrets that today!"

"Tell me about it." They both chuckled.

"Russell," She interrupted sharply, standing with hands on hips. "I'd really like to get home to my family sometime today, so could you speed up the chewing out?"

"Oh, well, sure. I'm supposed to explain that the President is furious that you ignored his advice. I'm supposed to tell you that he isn't releasing any statements on your behalf and that he is leaving it all in the justice department's hands." He delivered this news without any fire.

"Why aren't you yelling at me?" She asked genuinely confused. "You should be furious!"

"Oh, the President is! That's why he sent me."

"And you?"

"I speak on behalf of the President." He replied cheerfully. She dropped her arms and sank into her chair.

"Russell, you are impossible to comprehend."

"I'm an enigma." He said with a shrug. "Look, Bess. It was stupid. I mean, you essentially chucked your entire political career into the trash! I can't believe how completely naive you are! You think just because what you did was right, that they won't lock you up. You are probably going to jail. And it might cost us a second term. I don't know."

"But?" She wrinkled her brows.

"What else could you do? You aren't political at all, Elizabeth. That's no secret. And I've never met anyone smarter than you - you knew what was going to happen and you did it anyway. I guess because of righteousness or love or some such nonsense." He glanced at Mike B.

"Both. Have you seen the two of them together? It's unbelievable." Mike said.

"It is ridiculous!" Russell agreed. He turned his attention back to Bess. "So, I'm not yelling at you. What for? You don't listen anyway, and it is probably the most insane situation anyone has ever been in! Even _I_ can't deny that you nearly were killed over all of this. Even _I_ recognize that it's a ridiculous sham of justice! I guess the difference between us is that I expected this to happen, and you and Captain America are shocked by it."

She found herself completely at a loss for words. And Mike B. said, "Look at that. You've stunned her to silence."

"Well, the day wasn't a total loss then." He rose. "Go home, Bess. There's nothing to do tonight. It's a wait and see game now. I know you are shocked to discover which side I'm rooting for." He winked at her. "Too bad about prison. I really enjoyed fighting with you."

He walked out the door almost knocking over Blake who returned with a tray of coffees. "Make sure she gets home within the hour." He told him. "She doesn't belong here."

Blake carried the drinks into her office, setting the tray on her desk. Mike be reached out taking his immediately.

"Thank you, Blake." He said taking a sip.

"Ma'am? Are you. . . Is there anything you need?"

"Oh, don't worry, Blake! She's fine. She's just trying to process the fact that Russell Jackson paid her a compliment."

"What? Ma'am?"

"I can't believe that man." She finally spoke. "Even when he's being nice, he's a complete jackass." She sank back in her seat. "Blake, can you call for the car. I'm going home."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And Blake, thank you for trying to keep Russell out. It was very sweet."

"You're welcome, ma'am." He blushed.

"But don't ever do it again. He will fire you and I'm a lot tougher than I appear."

"No doubt of that, ma'am."


	2. Chapter 2

She arrived home to find Henry, Alison and Jason playing basketball in the freezing cold. It was already dark and their faces glowed pink under the outdoor lights. She didn't pause to change or even go inside; she simply dropped her bags and joined in, precariously maneuvering on two inch heels.

The ground was slippery with ice and snow, and yet somehow she and Alison manage to dominate the game - almost entirely due to Ali's consistent shot. She was fault proud of herself for playing so well, in heels when she lost her balance as her foot slid along the ground. Fortunately, she slid straight into Henry who caught her laughing as she somehow managed to still pass the ball to Alison who made a perfect shot.

"You're ruining your shoes, babe." Henry said laughing.

"I won't need 'em in prison." She said, shocked by her own words. Henry's face went blank and he pulled her upright.

"It's too cold." He told the kids. "Mom's freezing. Let's go inside."

She blinked back tears as he walked away from her, wrapping his arm around Alison's shoulders. "Now, tell me again why you won't go out for the team, Noddle?"

"Dad!" She said exasperated. "Those girls have played together forever. It's really hard to be the new kid."

She followed them inside, picking up her bags. As soon as she stepped into the warm house, Jason faced her, his eyes wide with fear.

"Mom," Jason said anxiously. "What did the President say?"

"Nothing." She said reaching out and pulling him against her. "I didn't talk to him."

"But what's going to happen?"

She glanced at Henry. "I don't know."

"Hey, c'mon, buddy. We talked about this. Mom was really brave and we have to be too. Pestering her with questions isn't going to help anyone."

"You can ask questions, honey." She said to Jason, wrinkling her brows at her husband. "He can talk to us."

Henry sighed audibly, "Babe, that's not what I . . .I think we've got enough stress right now."

"Don't fight!" Alison interrupted. "Please!"

"Noodle, we aren't fighting." Henry said, reaching out and putting his arm around her. "Mom and I are just . . ."

"Everything's going to be okay." Elizabeth interrupted.

"How can you know that?" Alison asked.

"Because I do." She paused and with an arm still around Jason, moved closer to Alison and Henry. "Your Dad and I have had tough days before, and we are always okay. I mean, he got shot down over the desert and was missing for four days and I thought it was all over, but it wasn't. He came back to me."

"And when Stevie was three she had pneumonia so bad and your Mom was on assignment and I couldn't get ahold of her. It was awful. Stevie was in a little oxygen tent and they told me to get a priest." He paled at the memory. "And the priest comes walking down the hall, and your mom burst in, practically knocks him over and says, 'Where's my baby?"

"And your Dad and I have had hard days between us too. You know that. You saw it when I first got back from Iran. But we always come back to this." She was firm. "Team McCord is everything. And I know you guys are hurt and angry over how hard it's been, but we are still team McCord. No matter what happens."

Henry reached out over Alison and held her by her shoulder. "That's not going to change." He said.

"Even if they send me to prison."

"No one is going to prison." He said angrily. "Mom will not be going to prison." He leaned forward and kissed her. "Now, see if you can't find some dinner for Mom. I bet she hasn't eaten."

Alison and Jason ducked away and went into the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone in the family room.

"Do you know something, I don't, Henry?" She asked.

"Elizabeth. You aren't going to prison." His voice waivered, and she considered him thoughtfully.

"Okay." She said softly. "Okay." She understood it was a thought too terrifying for him to consider and so he pushed it away; rejecting it out of hand.

It should have been a stressful evening filled with heaviness, but other than the tense first conversation when she got home, it felt pretty normal. Alison and Jason seemed to accept their reassurance. It was impossible for Ali to hide her worry and stress, so watching her daughter's calm, relaxed demeanor comforted her greatly. What ever else she'd screwed up, at least she and Henry had created a stable enough base that their children still believed them when they said that everything was okay." - even if they were lying about it.

Even as she and Henry crawled into bed that night, she felt relative ease. The night before had been filled with anguish and turmoil and dark memories of some of their toughest days, but tonight she drifted to sleep easily.

Why the whole thing should have taken them both back to the days before she quit confused her at first but talking it over at the therapists office, she could see that the days they faced now, were linked directly to those difficult days.

Had they made the right choice?

Once she'd made peace with leaving The Company, she hadn't ever really looked back. Although, he hadn't gone about it gracefully, Henry has pushed her to see that Baghdad wasn't something she had ever really wanted. She had been flattered and desperate to right horrible wrongs, to heal her own wounds over 911 and to take control over an organization that was spinning further and further out of control. They'd fought endlessly over it, until finally he had said, "Babe, just tell me what it is you want?"

At first she'd gone with all the easy answers. "I want you to support me!"

"And I'm only supporting you if I agree with you?"

"No! That isn't . . ."

"Elizabeth, _you_ are the one who insisted on a desk job! _You_ are the one who demanded they limit your trips! I never pushed for any of that."

"No, you saved it all up for now!"

"God! Babe! Why are you fighting me! You want to run Baghdad? This has been your career goal all along? You've never once said so! And we talk about everything!"

"Don't raise your voice!" She whispered fiercely. "You'll wake the kids!"

"Why? Why can't you just talk about it? Why are you so angry that I'm upset?" He lowered his voice. "If I came home and told you that I wanted to reup or go back to combat duty, you'd be upset!"

"I wouldn't threaten to walk out!"

"Hey, I never said that. I am being honest with you. You want to start lying to each other? You want me to tell you I think it's a great idea?"

"Henry. . ."

He reached out to her, a hand on her arm. "Baby, this isn't even what you want!"

"Don't call me that! I'm not a child! I don't need you to tell me what I want or how I feel!"

"Fine!" He was seething by then. "Fine. Go. Leave us. Leave me. Keep running! But it's never going to change what's happened! 911 will still be there - an open wound you refuse to even look at. They are all still dead, and the people you've committed so much time and energy to are still going to be headed in the wrong direction. Nothing you do is going to change that, but trying to force it will change you!" His voice was shattered. "It's already crushing you!"

"Stop." She whispered, tears gathering in her eyes.

"And one thing that won't ever change, Elizabeth - I love you. Always. Even if you move to the other side of the world charging at windmills! I will love you until I die - after too, if I'm allowed. But I am never going to lie to you - even if it hurts us both. I do not want you to go. And I don't believe you really want to either!"

She'd opened her mouth to speak but Jason woke up crying. She'd gone to him, rocking him back to sleep in the rocker that had once belonged to Henry's great grandmother. She tried to picture herself on the other side of the world, missing Jason's first steps or words. She tried to imagine him waking up at night without her there to comfort him. She tried to picture day after day ending, and not coming home to Henry's embrace.

And in the end, she had to admit the truth. She had to choose. And it wasn't that she had to choose between her career or family - Henry would never demand that of her - she would never demand it of herself. But she did have to choose on what side of the line she stood. Would she play a role in the tactics of torture? Would she follow her country down this treacherous path?

***MS***

"So you chose to leave the Company." Her therapist said.

"Yes." She glanced down but looked up when silenced settled over the room, meeting Dr. Sherman's eyes. "I suppose you want more than a one word answer."

"It's your hour." She responded with a smile.

"It was a tough time. We were learning how to fight. And Henry wasn't . . . He's more relaxed now. He's more comfortable with just letting me go."

"He trusts you."

"He trusted me then, but wasn't as good at communicating it. And I wasn't doing a good job of taking care of myself. 911 was really tough on us. It was difficult because I felt guilty for not predicting it and people we knew, friends died."

"It was a difficult time."

"Things changed after that and I felt helpless to stop it."

"It?"

"The direction we took as a Nation. The direction the CIA took. I can't manage wasted energy and effort. If you set aside the moral issues, torture is ineffective and a waste of resources." She shook her head. "It still frustrates me that no one could see that. All the lives wasted and all the good people ruined by it."

"Which brings us to the here and now." Dr. Sherman said.

"Maybe if I had taken that job, I'd be just as bitter as Jane. Maybe I would have made the same choices she did."

"Have you talked to Henry about this?"

"He has no perspective when it comes to me."

Dr. Sherman laughed at this. "He is clearly a fan of yours but he knows you well. The story you just told proves it. He understood you didn't want to go. He understood it _before_ you did."

"He would say that I would never make the choices Jane did."

"And what do you say?"

"I don't know. I didn't live her life. She couldn't talk to her husband the way I talk to Henry. They didn't have that kind of relationship." She drew in a shuddering breath. "And I never ever would've hurt my own friends the way she did.i can't fathom changing that much. So many good people were . . ." She struggled for control.

"Can I offer my observation?" Dr. Sherman asked, leaning forward.

"Yes, please."

"You are one of the most intelligent people I've ever met. I'm sure you've heard that from the time you were young. And your relationship with your husband is nothing short of miraculous. I know it's hard fought. It would have to be with two independent intelligent thinkers. And your career path has led you both into places of great darkness and tested you."

"Is this intended to cheer me up?" She asked.

"That's not my job." She settled back in her chair. "But there's is one more piece to the puzzle."

"What?"

"You glide through this darkness carrying around a deep secret." Elizabeth's eyes grew wide at this. "You know what I'm talking about?" Dr. Sherman asked in a stage whisper.

Elizabeth nodded her head, " Yes." She whispered her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

Dr. Sherman nodded her head. "That's how I know that Henry is right when he tells you everything is going to be alright. It is. It's also why sometimes you struggle. It's why you are here now with me. You, Elizabeth McCord, are filled with hope." Her doctor said with a broad smile.

"Yes." She admitted as tears fell. "I am."

***MS***

She was trying to rekindle that hope now, but she had awoken at two a.m. seized with panic. Henry slept peacefully, so she crawled out from under his protective arms and stared out into the darkness. She was trying to imagine her way through a life altered by prison. It was hard not to have a panic attack when she thought of how it would impact her innocent children; how it would wound Henry.

She tiptoed into the bathroom splashing her face with water and trying to calm and steel her nerves. She studied her face in the mirror trying to imagine the impact of prison. She could see no way out; she _was_ guilty. She _had_ discussed classified information with Henry and she'd admitted it publicly.

She stepped out of the bathroom to discover the bed empty. Henry, however, was not in the room. She stood in the hallway listening and was drawn downstairs by voices - Henry's and a faint female voice. Wrapping a robe around herself she encountered the improbable scene of her husband and Isabel sitting across from each other in the front room. They were engaged in what appeared to be a serious conversation. She moved to the bottom step and they both looked up at her. Isabel rose from where she sat on the couch but Henry remained where he was, sitting across from her on the chair, a look of resignation on his face.

"Babe, you should get some sleep. Go back to bed." He said, rubbing his face with his hand.

"Are you drunk?" Isabel asked turning toward him incredulously. "That isn't going to work!"

"Excuse me?" She said standing at the edge of the couch. "Go back to bed? What the hell is going on? Why are the two of you meeting at three in the morning? I gotta tell you guys, I am really over the whole secret plot thing."

Isabel looked at Henry, waiting as he studied his wife. He leaned forward shaking his head.

"Well, I'm interviewing second wives for when you go to prison and Isabel topped the list." He said uncharacteristically bitter.

"Jesus, Henry!" Isabel said turning away from him. She moved toward Bess with arms open wide to embrace her. "Hey! Are you hanging in alright? You were amazing at the hearing! I stood up and was cheering my tv."

Elizabeth accepted her friend's hug and said, "I'm not feeling too amazing right now. Mostly I stressed out and perplexed. You having a clandestine meeting?"

"Yes." Isabel said sitting back down. "Henry?" She said after a long minute of silence. "Would you please say something?"

"She's going to argue and I am exhausted. We've been arguing on and off for two days now. I don't have it in me." He glanced at his wife. "I think it's just easier to be an asshole, and give her a legitimate reason to be pissed off at me."

"Mission accomplished." She said glaring at him.

"Look, babe, I am stretched about as thin as I can manage." He rose and stood in front of her, articulating with his hands. "I'm doing what I need to do right now, and you are going fight it tooth and nail, but _this_ is happening."

"What?" She asked, folding her arms across her chest.

"We've been talking," Isabel said gently. "And if you are indicted, we have a plan." She glanced at Henry.

"He is going to make you say it." Elizabeth told her friend. She studied her husband angrily daring him to speak. He glanced at Isabel and spoke without preamble or hesitation.

"Bolivia, Venezuela, Morocco or Micronesia are all viable possibilities. But you never learned Spanish so I'm leaning toward Morocco." He told her.

"Seriously?" She shook her head unable to process what he was implying. She turned to her friend. "You are going along with this?"

"You are entirely too pretty for prison, Bess." Isabel told her. "And Henry would end up trying to bust you out, and the next thing you know I'm in charge of raising your kids. I suck at raising humans. I'll screw them up and that will weigh heavy on my conscience."

"So this is about you." Elizabeth said.

"Well, everything is."

Elizabeth sank into the sofa. "Henry you can not be serious! This is ridiculous!"

"This isn't a discussion Elizabeth. If you get indicted, this is happening. I don't give a damn about your opinion on this. I'm not asking you. I am telling you. You are NOT going to prison."

Elizabeth turned to Isabel. "I suppose you agreeing to help smuggle me out of the country means you've forgiven me."

"I didn't say that." Isabel said rising and grabbing her coat and purse. "Look, it seems like you two are going to have a nice little fight right now, and I'm still in recovery from all the years listening to my original set of parents fight." She leaned forward, hugging Bess and kissing her cheek. "I love you and all of this stuff is bullshit and you know it." She turned to Henry. "Don't worry, I'll talk to my guys. It's done. It'll be set up by tomorrow." She kissed Henry's cheek.

"Thanks." He said to her. "And any expenses. . ."

"Don't worry about it! We can settle up when the time comes." She hesitated. "Look, far be it from me to give you two advice, but, Jesus, Bess! This is one screwed up situation! There's no way you'd ever stay rational if it were flipped around and it was happening to Henry! Hell, you'd have burnt that hearing to the ground!" She sighed. "If things go bad, we'll do what needs to be done, okay? All of this, every bit of it - even you turning me over like you did, all of this is Juliet's fault, and I'll be damned if you take the fall. Hell, if George were still alive, he'd grab you in the middle of the night, kidnap and get you somewhere safe tonight!" She nodded at them. "I love you both. Goodnight."

Neither of them moved. She remained where she was, watching Henry who stood his eyes locked on her. Finally, he exhaled and folding his arms over his chest said, "So, go ahead. I'm listening."

She laughed at this. "No, you aren't! You just told me you weren't."

"No, I'll listen. I'm just not changing my mind."

"So, we become fugitives? We're going to raise Jason and Alison in a foreign country? And what about Stevie? We make her choose?" She lifted her hands out toward him. "Henry? You cannot possibly be serious? What about your Dad? What about your sister? C'mon!"

"What about them? Are they going to come see you on visiting day? We going to have Thanksgiving with plexiglass between us? That's your plan?"

"You'd give up your career? You'd give up everything!"

"No!" He glanced around realizing that he'd nearly shouted the word. "No," he repeated softer. "There's nothing if you aren't with me." He paused, a catch in his throat. "I'm not . . . I swear to God, babe, I'm not kidding. I've never been more clear about anything in my life."

"Henry. . ." She said soothingly. "Henry, we'll figure something out."

"No! I did figure something out!" His voice was brittle with barely contained rage. "Isabel is right. This whole thing is bullshit. They are trying to tear you down for goddamn political bullshit reasons, and I am not going to allow it. There's no justice or honor in this!"

She rose and stepped toward him. "Okay, you need to just take a second and think about this."

"I have not thought of anything else for the last forty-eight hours. Don't try and mollify me like I'm overreacting! You can pretend all you want around the kids, but you are terrified! It's not like we can deny it. That ship sailed." She opened her mouth to respond but he held up here s hand. "I'm not blaming you! It was the right thing to do, but if they don't do the right thing - if they try and lock you up over this - then I owe them no obedience or loyalty! 'If a law is unjust a man is not only right to disobey it - he is obligated to do so!'"

"But . . ."

"You gonna argue with Thomas Jefferson?" He said. "Listen, I'm. . ."' He paused drawing in a deep breath. "I know I sound like some dictatorial prick, but you know that's not how it is between us. I value your ideas above all else but this is different. I keep thinking of you pinned down under Fred's body, bullets all around you, so scared and . . ." Tears filled his eyes. "It's cost you so much and hurt you so badly, and they are going to allow you to be _punished_ over it; because of me? No! Hell no! I will NEVER accept it. Never. So pack a bag sweetheart. I will let go of every damn thing on this earth - our houses, our careers, our country but I am NEVER letting go of you!"

She had no words to respond to him. It was all she could do stay upright. She simply wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. He clung tightly to her, his whole body shaking.

"Okay." She said softly into his ear. "Okay."

She had no argument to give. Henry was consistently truthful. Everything about it was wrong and tainted by vindictive politics. Had she violated the law? Yes, but at the time she believed that the President of the United States might be a murderer. Did she deserve prison? No, and she had world-renowned religious scholar to back her up.

"Alison's Spanish is actually pretty good." She said trying to soothe him. "And Bolivia is beautiful."

He released his tight grip on her, looking into her eyes. "I'm sorry I acted like such a jerk."

"Oh, please! I put you through a hell of lot more than that!" She laughed half-heartedly. "I've completed messed up your entire life so badly that you are going to flee the country and go underground and you are apologizing to me for being snippy? Really?"

"Whoa! No, no, no. Isabel's right, babe. You don't own any of this. This belongs to Munsey and Juliet."

"Really? They got so pissed off at Carruthers they decided to publicly crush him? This is the result of my pride, Henry. Even you can see that."

"Baby, it is 3:00 in the morning - again. I cannot get into yet another argument with you over guilt and blame. Just accept that I disagree with any scenario in which you paint yourself with devil horns, okay?"

"Likewise." She leaned against him, suddenly exhausted. "Babe, I'm too tired to climb the stairs. I'll just sleep right here."

"I got ya." He said lifting her up, and carrying her up the stairs.

"I can walk." She said sleepily.

"Are you going to argue about every single thing I say?" He asked her.

"I'm not arguing." She said with a grin. They'd reached the bedroom by then and he lowered her onto the bed.

"You might just be the most contrary woman who has ever lived." He sat down on the bed beside her, clicking out the lamp. He lay down close to her, pulling the covers up over them both. The moon shone bright through their window.

"You called Isabel?" She asked softly.

"She texted me right after the hearing. Wanted to know if we had an exit strategy." He glanced over at her. "She forgave you right away, hon. She understood."

"I'm closing my eyes. You got any other secret plans I need to know about before I try to sleep?"

"Other than abandoning our lives and country? No. I think that's it."

"Good."

He wrapped himself around her, his arms protective, and she found herself swallowing down tears of anguish and gratefulness.

"I'm so . . ." She whispered. "Henry, I'm afraid."

"Me too, baby." His arms tightened around her, and she turned in his arms to face him.

"I love you." She whispered. He did not respond with words, and her fears faded into the background as he kissed her. There was a desperation in his touch, reminding her of the night before she'd left for Iran. They believed it was their last time together, then too.

Afterwards she fell almost immediately asleep, too exhausted to worry or stress. She slept nestled against Henry, and never even heard her alarm go off at six. Instead she opened her eyes, much later, to the sound of Henry's voice.

"Elizabeth? Sweetheart? Wake up, babe!"

She glanced at the clock shocked to see it read 9:13. "I slept through my alarm!" She sat up.

"Me, too. I woke up at 8:30!" He leaned over her, kissing her. "You were sleeping like the dead. I couldn't wake you."

"I better call the office." She sat up, throwing back the covers.

"I already did, but babe, Dalton's on the line." He handed her Blackberry to her.

"What does he want?" Her eyes grew big.

"I don't know. I just talked to his secretary. She'll put you through."

"It's too soon for a decision." She said. "It can't be that."

"Talk to him." He pointed at the phone.

Henry sat on the edge of their bed watching as she yes-sirred her way through the conversation. She stared at the phone in her hand, after she'd hung up.

"Babe?" Henry asked with raised eyebrows.

"He wants to talk in person." She said looking up at him.

"I'll go with you." He responded immediately.

"Not at the White House." She said softly. "FBI."

"They can't just lock you up." He said, his face white. "Can they?"

"I guess I'm about to find out." She said rising up out of bed and crossing to the closet but he caught her hand as she passed him, and pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Everything will be okay."

"Uh huh." She said fighting back tears and unable to say more.

"Babe?"

"I better get dressed." She said, wiping her tears away, and breaking from his grasp. He held onto her hand, his long arm stretched out even after her fingers slid from his; his love for her so tangible that she could still feel the warmth of it even as she stepped into the elevator that led her inside the dark, lowest level of the detention center of the FBI.


	3. Chapter 3

Henry McCord ran forward sliding into the elevator just before the doors closed. He stood panting, glancing around. He tried to appear nonchalant, his panicked appearance had already got him in trouble with security outside the State Department building. Once he'd read the text, he'd left all logic and decorum behind. He had only one thought, and checking in with security and/or behaving calmly were not part of it. He touched his cheek tenderly. It was already beginning to swell.

The Muzak in the elevator made him sick to his stomach and the elevator seemed interminably slow. He pulled his phone out, reading the message again - hoping that it would give more information.

 _Elizabeth is headed back to her office. You should go there. - Conrad_

He had no way to respond to the text - the President could not receive any texts from anyone outside the cabinet. He couldn't ask any clarifying questions and Elizabeth wasn't answering her phone. Conrad rarely communicated with him. He had contacted him once after Iran. Russell and been the one to let him know that she had been found and was alive, and then later had filled him in with the details. But several hours after that - after she was home, Conrad Dalton had called him, checking in to see that she was "alright". Of course, she wasn't but he hadn't told the President that.

"I can't say how much I appreciate what she did." Dalton told him.

"It was important to her." Henry had responded, unable to express _his_ own thoughts on the issue.

"I know this isn't something you . . ." The President hesitated. "I just wanted you to know I appreciate it. I value her, and her sacrifice."

"Thank you." Henry had said before hanging up. Of course what he had _wanted_ to say was more along the lines of, "You ever put my wife in harm's way again, or manipulate her sense of loyalty and I will hand you your ass." But one didn't say that to the President of the United States, even if he was an old friend; even if it was true.

The elevator stopped twice before finally stopping on the 7th floor. As soon as the doors opened, he rushed out, heading straight for her office. He felt someone grab his arm and looked to his left to see the face of an unfamiliar DS Agent.

"That's Secretary McCord's husband." Frank said, approaching the two of them. "Let him go." He turned toward Henry. "She just got back, sir. She's in her office."

But he was already moving rapidly away from them. He watched as Blake looked up from where he sat at his desk, and rising went into her office. She came out then, looking no worse for wear. He stopped in front of her, searching her face for any sign of stress. His heart was pounding and his hands shaking. Her face crinkled into serious concern.

"Henry! What's wrong? Are the kids . . ."

"No." He gasped out. "I . . . they . . . said you . . . were back."

"I was just calling you." She said reaching out and putting a hand on his arm. She pulled him away from Blake's desk and into her reception area. "Why are you out of breath?"

"I ran." He panted out.

"From Georgetown?" She asked shocked.

"From the Metro station."

"Why?" She stepped closer, reaching out to touch his face. "What happened?"

"Elizabeth! What do you mean what happened! I was waiting to hear from you!" He recognized that everyone in the outer office was watching them, while pretending _not_ to be watching them. He didn't care.

"Your face is swollen." She said reaching out and touching his cheek. "Henry! What is going on? Were you in a fight?"

"No." He answered quickly. "Well, technically, yes, but that isn't the point. Elizabeth? What happened? Conrad texted me. He said you were headed back to your office and to get here."

"Oh, geez! He is so old fashioned." She complained. "I'm not some ridiculous damsel in distress who . . ."

"Elizabeth Amelia McCord! TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED!"

Every eye was on them now, as he shouted, but he did not care. Blake rose in front of his desk, but then immediately sat back down, unsure how to proceed.

"First of all, we had a deal about the middle name, and now you've let everyone in the office know." She made a sweeping gesture with her arm. "And secondly, _I was calling you, Henry_ , when you came rushing in here looking like something terrible had happened." She crossed her arms over her chest stubbornly.

"Right." He huffed out, recognizing that his fastest route to information was agreeing with her. "Sorry."

"How about we step into my office? Hm?" She raised her eyebrows at him, and winking at Blake who blushed crimson to be caught staring, led him into her office.

"Babe, I'm sorry, but Conrad never contacts me and this morning you were . . ." But he was unable to finish his sentence as she flung herself into his arms, kissing him. "Well, okay." He said between kisses. "Could you give me some info, please."

She leaned back from him, her arms still around him. "No charges." She smiled widely. "They cited 'National Security' and something about 'extreme circumstances' or something. I am NOT going to prison!" She reported gleefully.

"Oh, thank God!" He staggered back and away from her, his legs suddenly turning to jelly. He tried to aim for the chair in front of her desk, but missed, landing on the ground. She fell forward with him, but caught herself.

"Henry!" She called out shocked. She knelt in front of him. "Are you alright?"

He looked up at her, blinking back tears, and pulling her down into her arms, said, "I am now." Neither one of them noticed when Blake pulled the door to her outer office shut, leaving them alone.

***MS***

"So, to recap," Jason said dramatically. "Everything is over."

"Yes." Henry McCord said smiling, his arm around his wife, who stood beside him. They were in the family room, and all three kids sat on the couch facing them.

"Again." Stevie said raising eyebrows.

"I see your point." Elizabeth said. "But this time, it's actually true."

"So they dropped the charges?" Ali asked.

"There were never any charges." Her father explained patiently. "There was the threat of charges, and they are gone now."

"But technically, you did exactly what they accused you of, right?" Stevie asked.

"Not even technically. I did exactly what they accused me of doing. I shared classified information with your father." Elizabeth responded evenly. "Why?"

"Nothing." Stevie shrugged.

"If you are upset about something, you might as well tell us now." Her mother said. "I can tell you from experience that bottling things up is really, really ineffective."

"What's going on?" Henry asked.

"Nothing. I was just thinking out loud. Why is your cheek bruised?" She asked her father.

Henry reached out and touched his cheek gingerly. "It's nothing. It was just a misunderstanding."

"Right." Jason said. "I've seen one of those before, but I'm sort of stunned someone got a punch in. You must've been off your game."

"This wasn't like that." Henry said, and sighing continued. "Look, President Dalton called your mom in today, and we didn't know what he was going to say. It was pretty tense, and then on my way to her office, to talk to her, I didn't . . ." He glanced at his wife, blushing. "I didn't follow protocol. So I was stopped by an agent. It's fine."

Jason burst out laughing. "Must've been one of the new guys! Man, I wouldn't mind seeing that!"

"Jason." His mother said disapprovingly. "Do you have any other questions?"

"No prison. And it's over." Alison repeated, reaching for her phone. "Sounds good to me."

"Yep." Jason agreed.

"Stevie?" Elizabeth turned to her oldest daughter who was unusually silent.

"Whatever." Stevie sighed. "I've got a study group. Is there anything else?"

"No." Elizabeth said, her brows knit with concern. "Honey . . ."

"I'm fine." Stevie said, rising. "I just have a paper due, and things have been kind of stressful so . . ." She smiled at her mother. "See you later."

They watched her gather her bag and coat and leave, and Elizabeth glanced at her husband who shrugged his shoulders.

"Mom?" Alison asked.

"Yeah?" She sat down on the coffee table in front of Alison.

"I don't know if I should ask." She glanced at her father. "I don't want you to be upset."

"You can talk to her, Noodle. It's okay." Henry told her.

"Aunt Juliet." She said. "I don't understand."

"To be honest," Her mother moved to sit beside her. "Neither do I."

"What have you heard?" Henry asked moving to sit across from her.

"Everything." Jason said. "We read some stuff online, and, you know, we live here, so, you know."

"Aunt Juliet betrayed the country." Ali said softly. "She let Uncle George get killed?"

"She had him killed, dummy." Jason said angrily. "She nearly got Mom killed!"

"Hey, knock it off Jason." Henry said.

"We've been talking about this for days! She just can't face it!" Jason said.

"It's pretty hard to accept." His mother told him.

"Aunt Juliet was always . . ." He began but Ali cut him off.

"You were too little! She almost never came to the farm!" Alison burst out angrily.

"What?" Henry asked.

"Nothing." Jason glanced at his Mom.

"I'm okay, Jas." She said to him. "What?"

"I thought she didn't really like you." He said softly. "Maybe I'm remembering wrong. Ali is right. I was little."

His mother sighed heavily. "I don't know anymore, hon. I thought I was better at . . ." Her voice trailed off. "It doesn't matter. You probably read her right."

"I was a kid." He offered.

"But . . ." Alison looked at them with wide eyes. "I loved Aunt Juliet." Her face turned pale as her mother's eyes filled with tears.

"Me too, baby."

***MS***

She was awake at 3 a.m. again. She had tiptoed out of her bedroom and gone downstairs in search of chocolate. She'd been sidetracked, though and found herself curled on the couch with an old photo album.

She wasn't good about baby books or photo albums. For a good chunk of her life photographic evidence of gatherings was frowned upon. They had zillions of pictures of the kids but few of their friends - at least the ones in The Company.

She studied a picture of Juliet holding a newly born Jason trying to see if anything in her face explained the angry, hard edge her voice now held - especially when saying her name.

 _"Our former college, turned Secretary of State, Elizabeth McCord."_

There was such darkness in her tone. She had been trying for weeks now to remember anything . . . Any clues that could have led her to suspect this.

"Babe, it's late. Come to bed." Henry stood beside the couch, running his hand through his disheveled hair. "What are you looking at?" He leaned closer to peer at the book in her hand. A brief smile flashed over his features and he pointed to a picture of a tiny Stevie McCord, all of six years old, pointing straight at the camera. "Look at that. She was stubborn from the get-go." The smile faded as his eyes landed on the opposite page. He stepped past his wife, settling on the couch beside her.

"You aren't going to find any answers there." He said gently. "She was a very good liar, babe."

"It's my job to spot liars." She said with a sigh.

"Outside the office." He pointed out. "You weren't supposed to vet the guy next to you at lunch."

"I guess." She admitted.

"'The lasting anguish of betrayal is that it does not come from your enemies but one you held dear.'" He said gently.

"It makes me question too many things." She told him. He sat beside her and they said nothing as she continued to flip through the pages. He watched her, waiting to see if she would speak. He'd learned to be gentle with her. He couldn't push her too far, since Iran. There was a new fragility about her. It wasn't just PTSD, although that was a big part of it. She'd always responded better if just waited for her to talk, but now he found he often had to wait and then gently, very tenderly open the door for her.

"You haven't said anything about the interrogation." He carefully prodded.

"I just wanted to be happy today." She turned to smile at him. "I'm not going to prison, we've got a peace treaty with Iran and we know what happened to Marsh. I should be really happy."

"Baby, you can be happy and broken-hearted all at the same time." He moved to sit across from her. She glanced away and he briefly wondered if he had pushed too hard, but then she set the photo album aside and squared her shoulders at him.

"She said," She paused and looked down at her hands. "She said that when Marsh decided to run for office, he backed out of everything. They had to get rid of him. They thought he might out them to boost himself politically. So they had him killed." She gave a shaky laugh. "She must have been so pissed that Conrad tapped me. She always said that I was his little pet - I remember that."

"Marsh was in over his head." Henry said.

"Yeah." She reached out taking Henry's hand. "Tell me about the bruise."

"Oh, well that was outright stupidity." He said laughing at himself. "Turns out running like a crazed man toward a federal building is frowned upon." He smiled at her. "It's okay."

They sat together in silence. He waited patiently and after a long silence he said, "Maybe you should talk to Dr. Sherman tomorrow."

"Probably." She sat back releasing his hand, slumping against the back of the couch. "You can ask me." She said very quietly.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I just want you to do what you need to do. It doesn't have to be me you tell. If it's too hard to talk about it, that's okay, babe. You can talk about him when you are ready. I'm not going anywhere."

"No, I just . . ." She swallowed hard. "She said that when George started asking questions they had to do something. She altered his breaks. She did it herself."

"Jesus!"

"I keep thinking about it. Even now, even after everything, I can't imagine doing something like that to her. How could she kill him?" She looked down, her voice soft. "George was so . . . He was like a brother to me."

"He loved you." Henry said to her. "And he knew you loved him."

"When he came that night, I thought he was crazy. I should've listened or made him talk."

"He didn't know it was Juliet, babe."

"We don't know that! Maybe he suspected something. I just wish I'd been kinder."

He considered her thoughtfully, and leaning forward took her hands in his. "The very last thing he did was to come and warn you, babe. Think about that. You would only do that if you loved someone. He was smart too. He understood your reaction, probably expected it."

"Okay." She said softly, processing his argument and nodding her head. "Thank you."

"You haven't said how you feel about Juliet, though." He squeezed her fingers.

"Oh," She sat back, her hands slipping free of his. "I can't even manage . . ." She tucked her feet up under herself, and her face grew tight with stress. "It just hurts too much, Henry." Her eyes grew bright with tears.

"Yeah." He said nodding his head. "Yeah."

A tear escape, and she brushed it back with her hand. She gave a self-deprecating laugh, and looked up at him. "I bet you are rethinking taking that seat next to me in that ethics class. Pretty much attached yourself to a mess."

His eyes opened wider at this, and he moved to sit beside her on the couch, pulling her into his arms. "Well, I would've appreciated a heads up on your lack of cooking skills." He kissed her cheek. "Listen to me, sweetheart, I honestly don't know how you've manage the last few months. The things you've endured, and I can't believe how lucky I am that you are still here. If I even spend a second thinking about Iran, I get absolutely sick. And then when we figure we are clear of it all - you have to deal with this whole stupid thing with Carruthers! It's a lot to take in."

"It is." She agreed, nestling against him.

"And Juliet is very difficult to process. She was family." His voice was soft. "I remember when Lily was born. I was so happy for them, and she was so beautiful right at birth. Most newborns, other than ours, of course, look sort of like squishy old men, but Lily was beautiful."

"She was." She turned to look up at Henry. "I don't understand how she could turn even from her children. Miles and Lily are babies still! How could she take Lily to ballet _and_ then go cut the lines to George's brakes."

"I don't know. But looking at the photo album isn't going to give us the answers. The past was real. We _were_ friends. We loved her like family. But she's always been a little more closed off, babe. That's what she and Aiden fought so much about."

She nodded her head in agreement.

"Juliet is a wound we carry; something that's going to live inside us for awhile. But just because she tricked us - just because she lied and betrayed us, we weren't wrong for caring about her. You weren't wrong to call her your friend."

"It's really hard." She looked up at him. "It's hard to see how much she hates me, and I never even knew it. The sound of her voice when she talks about me . . . Henry, it was terrible."

"I'm sorry." He kissed her again. "If you can avoid it, I don't think you should be involved with her interrogation, babe. It is too costly." He rested his cheek against her head. "I don't know, though. Maybe you should ask Dr. Sherman. I wouldn't want to get in the way of anything that helps you."

He felt her shaking and looked down afraid that she was crying, but was surprised to discover that she was laughing.

"What?" He asked.

"I don't know. It's probably exhaustion and stress. It's just so typically you, Henry. Even when you are trying to protect me, you are trying to protect me from you over-protecting me! It's kind of ridiculous."

"I've got flaws, baby. You are just tired." He reminded her.

"You do, thank God. You are right. You've caught me in a weak moment." She put her hands on his arms, which were wrapped around her. "I just . . ." Her voice constricted with tears. "I just want to be free of it. I am so tired of this heaviness. I felt so good walking into court, and even after. Now it feels like it all crashed back down even harder. Juliet killed George, and is going to spend the rest of her days locked up!"

"You are physically exhausted, darlin'. That's a big part of it, you know."

"I know."

"We should go to bed." He said, but she didn't move.

"Henry?" Her voice was a near whisper.

"What, babe?"

"Do you think if I _had_ gone to Baghdad, the same thing would've happened to me? We would be apart and I would be . . ."

"No." He interrupted firmly. "That whole thing was never about Baghdad, babe. That wasn't what we were fighting about. I mean, I was stupid about it. I should've . . . you can take any job you want. That's what I should have said. I should have trusted you to figure out what you really wanted yourself. You would have."

"I don't know. I wasn't as good about sticking to what mattered to me; to us. I was still trying to earn Conrad's approval."

"Yeah." He agreed. "But you never would have . . .There are some fundamental differences between you and Juliet."

"Like what?"

"She's got a bitter edge. She always has. Don't take this the wrong way, but you never belonged at the CIA. You've got too much hope and faith. You are too open."

"I'm not some princess, and I did some things I'm not proud of - you know that. I was corrupted by it."

"No. When you gave the slightest glimmer of heading down that road, you came home, and a few months later you quit. That's the point, babe. Juliet stayed."

She considered this thoughtfully. "I don't know. I hadn't thought of it that way."

"And you'd never have taken the path she did. I know that you going to Baghdad would've been very hard on us, but I was never leaving. Babe, you know I would never leave."

"I wonder if Juliet and Aiden said the same things."

"I don't know about them. I only know about you and me." He said. "I know you really well, babe. You might just have to trust me on this. You would _never_ have made the decisions Juliet did. It's not in you. You were made differently; at your core, you are different."

"That's what Conrad said." She told him thoughtfully.

"Well, every now and then, he's right."

"It's like that scar on my back." She said softly. "I didn't feel it happen. I didn't even know about it. I think it was in that bunker or maybe Germany. Everything gets confusing." She glanced up at him and saw his face white with stress. "It was the bunker because it was hard to hear. My ears were still ringing, I guess, and one of the soldiers said something about the blood. And I didn't even know it was there. When I lifted my hand, it was red with blood and . . ." She felt his muscles tighten; his body tense with stress. "I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't. . . I don't want to upset you."

"I'm upset you were hurt, Elizabeth. I'm upset that you were nearly killed. You can talk to me about it." He swallowed hard. "Remember How you felt after Khafji?"

"Yes."

"It's the same for me, okay? It makes me sick to think of you as a fellow battle survivor; a combat vet just like me, but that's the truth, and you can tell me."

She slid from his arms and sat facing him. She gave him a sad smile and brief kiss before continuing. "I was so surprised to see that blood - that it was mine and that I was hurt. The first thing I felt was shock and then fear. Even later at Landstuhl, when they cleaned it out and put the stitches in, I was numb with shock. It didn't hurt at all."

"You were _in_ shock."

"Yes, but as it healed, then it hurt. I would get - still get - from time to time these strange pains. As though the healing were worse than the actual wound." She lowered her head. "I don't think I'm explaining it right, but that's how I feel about Juliet. I never felt the moment when everything shifted between us - never saw it coming. I am amazed to see the wound she's carved in me. But it's only now it hurts, and I don't know if that means it is healing."

"Maybe." He offered softly. "Or maybe it is you learning to live with the wound." He considered her thoughtfully, lifting a hand to brush his fingers through her hair. "You are still so good."

"I'm not. Don't do that!" She shook her head at him. "Henry, I'm counting on you to see me as I am - not the stupid glorified hero or villain they paint me to be."

"I do see you as you are!" He sat back offended. "I'm the one who knows you best. Sweetheart, you are completely hopeless in the kitchen and probably one of the biggest over packers I have ever witnessed. You own more shoes than a third world country and have zero ability to let anything go. If I bring it up right now, you'll go right back into your explanation of why the guy at Trader Vic's has to have been Al Pacino, and that was ten years ago."

"It was!"

"See!" He laughed. "You are so stubborn!"

"Bringing me right back to earth, buddy."

"I've never known anyone with a sharper mind than yours and you are so quick. You see every side to an argument and can get me to flip sides on something that I was 100% sure on, and somehow make me feel like it was all my idea. And your are ridiculously beautiful. People always notice you when you step into the room. Sometimes I forget to really look and then I see you and I have to catch my breath."

"Okay, that's enough. . ."

"And you are such a good mother. I look at three of them and I can't fathom how they've turned out so well. But then I think of all the time and effort, and love you've invested in them! Of course they are lovely - they are you!"

"They are us." She said, her face flush with embarrassment and pleasure. "That's enough, Henry, I . . ."

"No, babe." He interrupted. "I just now got to my main point." He leaned closer to her, his hands resting on her shoulders. "You are practical and real, but you are also so filled with hope. You've got no reason for any hope or joy - especially lately. The world you orbit is so dark but it never extinguishes that light inside - even when you were so wounded - even then I could see it." He pulled her close to him again, and felt her relax against him. "That's why I know you would never walk down Juliet's path. You would never give up like that, and just count people out. You are always looking for a way through. It's why you wouldn't let her get the death penalty. You are _still_ hoping for her."

He felt her tremble and knew this time it was tears, not laughter. He ran his fingers through her hair, and rubbed her back as she wept. When her tears subsided, he spoke again.

"If you were without hope, if you weren't good, this wouldn't bring you such deep pain. I'm so sorry, Elizabeth and I do anything on this earth to make it right for you. You know that."

"I do."

"You should sleep, babe. It's so late and you are so tired."

He led her by hand up the stairs and she crawled into bed, sinking into the soft pillows.

He lay beside her, wrapping his arms around her.

"Tell me a story." She requested. "Something that has nothing to do with us."

"A long time ago there was a lonely soldier who returned to his beloved France after a long and difficult war. He was weary from fighting, and longed to gaze on green fields and to rest beneath the shade of the lovely trees of home. But when he returned home, he discovered that his home had been marked by war, too. The trees were gone, and as a result the land was bare and dry."

"Tell me you never told this one to the kids."

"Hush. Close your eyes." He admonished. Sighing she complied, and he ran his hand back and forth over her shoulder as he continued. "For a time he sat, grieving the loss - wishing that things were different. But one day, he decided that he would plant just one tree - so that people could look at it and say, 'Oh, remember?' And so he planted a tree and cared for it. When it began to grow, it was so lovely and so green he decided to plant another. And soon he lost himself inside it - planting tree after tree after tree. At first no one noticed but over the years, the hillside became covered with trees. Others who took notice, began to plant trees as well. Soon the countryside was green with trees - greener than he ever remembered it. When he died, no one knew his name or what he'd done, but he was buried in a lush valley- green with trees he had planted."

"That's a beautiful story." She said sleepily. "I can see all those trees."

"Of course you can." He whispered, kissing her cheek. "Sleep, babe."

"I love you, Henry." Her voice trailed off as she drifted into sleep. His own eyes were heavy with sleep but as often happened to him since her return, he couldn't make himself close his eyes. Instead he watched her peaceful face as she slept in a pool of moonlight. He was filled with both an aching sorrow for all she had suffered, and continued to suffer, as well as a deep gratitude that she was here.

Her face contorted in sleep, no doubt plagued by dark memories - dreams that robbed her of peace. He kissed her cheek and whispered soft shushing sounds until she settled back to sleep. "I love you." He whispered hoping that somehow even asleep she could hear.

He drifted to sleep clinging to hope so strong that he dreamed he saw her laughing, her face lit with joy surrounded by a lush forest; trees of hope that she herself planted.

***MS***

 _Author's Note: thank you for taking the time to review. It is an encouragement - a tree planted for a lonely writer! :) I originally meant this piece to be a one-shot. I so longed to explore what must have happened after she learned she was free of the threat of prison and after that bleak interview of Juliet. The story grew into three chapters and I am mostly satisfied now. I love the way that Henry remains solidly supportive of her - allowing room for her pain and sorrow. It's nice to see._

 _And if you've got a story buried inside you, I hope you add to our field of growing trees._


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